


Forever

by Not_You



Series: one only understands the things that one tames [24]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Modification, Bondage, Branding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Relationship Negotiation, Sharing a Bed, Steve Needs a Hug, Switching, adults using their words, basically wedding planning except it's not so much a wedding as a renewal of vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wants something permanent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No body modding in this chapter, just discussion thereof.

“Hey, Phil?”

Phil looks over to where Clint is sitting on the side of the bed, peeling off his socks. “Yes?”

“So, I totally have something I wanna ask you before Steve gets here.”

Sharing a bed and the emotional attention of a sub with Captain America is still utterly bizarre, but Phil is also getting used to it. And far be it from him to deny a friend, a trusted comrade, and his personal hero anything Clint doesn't object to. Besides, Steve is almost unbearably polite about the whole thing, trying to minimize his demands on Clint and just stay above water on his own. 

“Oh?” Phil asks, sitting beside Clint. He wonders if this is something like the time Clint had asked permission to do some basic obedience exercises for Steve and give him a kiss on the mouth afterward.

“Yeah.” Clint turns to Phil and takes his hands. “I'm totally serious about this, okay?”

“Okay,” Phil agrees, squeezing Clint's hands and then letting go so he can arrange himself on his knees at Phil's feet. 

Clint shivers and rests his head on Phil's thigh, hugging his leg. “Master,” he says softly, “your boy begs to be branded.”

Phil has never actually heard Clint use the submissive third person, even if he has come to love the only slightly less old-fashioned 'master.' This odd and abased address is somewhere between touching and deeply alarming. “Clint,” he begins, not quite sure what he's going to say, “I... I'm not sure how I feel about that.”

“Please, master,” Clint whimpers, trembling and clinging more tightly, “please.”

Phil hushes him, stroking his hair. “Easy, boy. Tell me exactly what you want, and why, and maybe then I'll know how to feel.”

Clint sighs, calming and nuzzling Phil's skin. “Mm. I'm not trying to get you to punish me, or anything.”

Phil lets out a sigh of his own, profoundly relieved. “Good.”

“It's not even about the pain, master,” Clint whispers, looking up at him. “it's about the permanence.” His voice cracks and his eyes gleam with unshed tears. “When you were gone, all I wanted was more to be left of you. More signs that I belonged to you and could never forget. I want you to mark me permanently, something that I couldn't even laser away.”

Phil shudders, something dark and unfathomably possessive rising up within him. “I see.” Clint just whimpers, snuggling into Phil's thigh again, shifting close enough to get his arms around Phil's hips. Phil leans forward and hugs him. “I would love to mark you as mine.” Clint makes a high-pitched, happy little noise that Phil hasn't heard nearly enough since his return, and he kisses the top of Clint's head. “Do you have a type in mind?”

“I dunno, strike?”

Phil grimaces. “I want to be able to eat bacon, Clint.”

Clint laughs, and sits up at the sound of a light knock on the door. “Yes?” Phil calls, looking over.

“Evening, fellas. Mind if I come in?” Of course they don't mind if Steve comes in. They very rarely mind if Steve comes in, and relearning the sock over the doorknob cue had been a quick and mostly painless process.

“Please do,” Phil says, and kisses Clint's forehead before letting him crawl into bed. Clint sleeps in the middle, of course. Now he lounges there and watches both of them putter around, Phil peeling off his t-shirt and exposing the scars on his chest, Steve hanging his robe up to reveal striped blue pajama bottoms. As always, Clint reaches for Phil first, drawing him close and kneeling up to kiss the divot left by Loki's spear. Phil strokes his hair and settles down beside him, kissing his cheek and then watching as Clint beckons Steve over. Steve is always tentative, but once he's actually in bed beside Clint, Clint hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek.

“Comfortable?”

“Very,” Steve says with a small smile. There are times when his possessive and casual hand on Clint's hip drives Phil a little crazy, but usually it's like this. He's happy to share Clint's warmth with Steve, who took such good care of him in Phil's absence and who has so many losses of his own. When Steve puts his arm around Clint, Phil wraps his arm over Steve's, rubbing a little without even thinking about it as Jarvis dims the lights. When Steve is here they sleep with a nightlight, a comforting warm red that keeps the dark from being anything like ice. 

Now Steve sighs and snuggles close to Clint. “Thanks for havin' me,” he murmurs the way he does every night.

Phil smiles in the dark. “Thank you for joining us, Steve.”

“Yeah, you're like two extra blankets.”

Steve chuckles, and there's the near-inaudible sound of him kissing Clint's cheek. “Good.” He makes a soft purring noise, cuddling Clint into his arms. He shifts toward Phil as he does it, so there's no sense that he's taking Clint away, and Phil feels a surge of affection for Steve Rogers that has nothing to do with Captain America and is painful in its intensity. He presses against Clint, who makes a small sound of contentment at being comfortably squished between his two favorite doms. 

Phil smiles. “Comfortable?” He murmurs.

“Very,” Clint says, with a small, soft laugh. They're quiet for a long while afterward, and Phil is at least half asleep by the time Clint speaks again. “Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“You wanna come to our branding ceremony, or would it upset you?”

“...I can't say it wouldn't make me think of absent friends, but I'd like to be there,” Steve says softly, yawning and nuzzling Clint's hair.

Clint wriggles a little, making himself more comfortable between them. “Awesome.” There are versions of the branding ceremony that call for people other than the couple to be involved, and Phil supposes having Steve hold or comfort Clint during the branding would be nice. He's still not sure about inflicting so much pain on Clint, but the more he turns it over in his drowsing mind, the more right it seems to mark Clint for life.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil has never permanently marked anyone in his life, and he reads about branding between bouts of straightening out his and the Avengers's tangled paperwork. It's a fascinating subject, with a long and strange history. Almost every body modification available has been used on everyone from criminals to princens, and as anything from a criminal punishment to the highest of religious adornments. Branding, though, has often been done to those one does not care for. Slaves, prisoners, criminals. Phil isn't sure he likes the idea of Clint craving this particular modification. Then again, nothing else is quite so permanent, and that's what's at the heart of this.

“Thinkin' hard?” Clint asks, leaning on the back of Phil's chair. It's good to be in the office again, with Clint so close and in a light sweat from terrorizing new agents on the urban fighting obstacle course, body heat radiating onto the back of Phil's neck.

“Yes, actually,” Phil says, leaning back a little and taking Clint's hand to press a kiss to the back. “I was just reading more branding articles.”

“Oh,” Clint says, and he's blushing when Phil swivels his chair around to face him. Phil smiles and pulls his sub into his lap because SHIELD can afford a few breaks, damn it. Clint sighs and curls into a contented little ball, nuzzling into Phil's shoulder. 

“Mm. Such a good boy,” Phil murmurs, rubbing Clint's back. “You remember I didn't like the idea of strike branding?”

“Yeah, and I can see how it might get kinda gross.”

“How do you feel about freeze branding?”

“Hn. Hadn't really thought about it. But really, boss, I'm cool with whatever you pick.”

“Any definite preferences?”

“I want you to do it yourself. I don't care that you're not a professional.”

Phil shudders in revulsion at the idea. “I was _never_ going to let another person do this.”

“Good,” Clint says. It sounds fierce, and Phil hugs him tightly. “And I think it would be easier to look after and look good on my hip or the outside of my thigh.”

Phil nods, rubbing slow circles on Clint's back. “I think so, too.”

“There anything you want, boss? I mean, I don't really care about the design.”

“I've been thinking about that, but I haven't come to any conclusions. There is one thing I think I want, though.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I want you to mark me in return. It can be smaller, but I've always been yours as much as you are mine.”

“Jesus, boss,” Clint breathes, and holds Phil's head in place to kiss him hard, shivering slightly.

Despite everything they've been through, Phil is too professional to do much more than kiss back and then try and soothe Clint down to baseline. Clint complains but doesn't push, and eventually kisses Phil's cheek in farewell as he leaves to look over the latest crop of aspiring sharp shooters. Nick hasn't assigned either of them to anything more than desk work and looking after the baby agents, and they're both still much more grateful than bored. Phil goes back to work for now, but he keeps pondering the brand in the back of his mind. He is not a very artistic person, but whatever he and Clint end up choosing, he wants it to be nice. Clint's body is far too beautiful to mar, and Phil is determined that this will be an adornment. 

When Phil was a small boy, he would sit in his father's lap and play with the tag on his collar. It was a very pretty tag, made of gold and shaped like a heart, with an ornate letter L, his mother's first initial. On the back was a two-line inscription:

_Turn away thine eyes from me,  
for they have overcome me._

Years later his mother had shown him the one on the inside of her gold ring with its heart-shaped stone. It was also from the Song of Solomon and just said:

_I am my beloved's,  
and his desire is toward me._

Both tokens are buried with them now, of course, but Phil wants something with as much meaning. After all, they'll need to last a lifetime. In the end he elects to emulate his mother, and just find a nice script P to use. When he tells Clint so, Clint smiles, “Sounds good to me, boss. I was thinking of maybe giving you an eye.”

They're eating takeout straight from the boxes in Phil's office, which is the same as ever and thereby deeply comforting. Phil swallows his mouthful of fried rice, thinking of how appropriate that really is. “I like that, Clint. Maybe just below my left collarbone.”

Clint smiles, lightly touching the spot. “Yeah.”

With the designs decided, Phil applies himself more than ever to selecting a method and in the end he finds himself torn between freeze branding and the electrosurgical type. Cold is attractive because of the lack of smell and the reputed lower levels of pain, but the permanence is more variable. Phil scrolls through outcome photos and consults an old friend who does modification for a living before settling on freeze branding. With the technical details finally resolved upon, he and Clint can turn their attention to the form of the ceremony. There are several classic components, of course, but there are different ways to apply them depending on dynamic. Phil wants a small ceremony that looks exactly as voluntary as it is, and Clint agrees. Weddings are very public things, but body modification ceremonies are often completely private. Clint wants the team present, though, and allows that Nick can come as Natasha's date and Phil's friend, even if Clint and the rest of the team are still very irritated with him.

“I'm very grateful for the concession,” Phil says, and Clint chuckles, hugging him tightly. They're having this particular conversation in bed, Tony having insisted on taking Steve out 'to explore this strange modern world,' something he does every so often. Steve endures it with good grace.

“I know I basically owe Fury having you back, but I don't think I'm ever gonna forgive him for not letting me actually be there for you while you were going through so much,” Clint says, nuzzling Phil's shoulder. “Is that unreasonable?”

“No, sweetheart,” Phil says, kissing Clint's cheek. “But I can't even be angry anymore. I'm too grateful for the chance to come back to you.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “When you put it like that, I kinda feel like a dick.”

Phil kisses him again, on the corner of the mouth this time, murmuring, “That's okay, Clint. I forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still learning about cold branding and may have to retcon Phil's decision, so you're not insane if you reread and it's different. XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just making things up and extrapolating from research on livestock. I feel like I'm being a bit insulting, but I have to assume that we have those 'Remove Plastic Before Eating' labels on fruit roll-ups for a reason, so: NO ONE TRY THIS AT HOME. Or at very least read something on the subject besides this fic before you do. Thank you and good night.

They agree to return to the same waterfall where they held their wedding, something that takes almost no discussion at all. Clint shyly adds that he'd like to wait for their anniversary, and Phil has to kiss him for a long and distracting moment before murmuring, “Of course, of course, sweetheart,” against his mouth. With the date set, Phil gets everything else in order.

The team, Nick, and Pepper accompany them in a little twin-prop, and Clint doesn't snarl at Nick at all as they pass him on their way to the back of the plane. Nick keeps quiet and lets Natasha lean on him. They're cute together and Phil resolves to tease Nick about this the next chance he gets. For now, most of his attention is taken up by keeping his boy close and making sure he feels as loved as he is. Clint can't help but be tense, but he lets Phil hold him and buries his face in the side of Phil's neck, taking deep, even breaths. They have the back of the plane to themselves, the others closer to the front. Phil and Clint are hidden behind a curtain, which means he's free to cradle his sweet boy in his lap for as long as he can before his legs start to fall asleep. Clint smiles when Phil finally admits that he'll have to shift him.

“Nothing good lasts forever, right boss?”

“Except love, sweetheart.” He kisses Clint again and swallows up his little whimper, a bit surprised at how completely his boy melts into his arms.

“Love you so much, master,” Clint whispers when they have to stop to breathe.

“I love you too, dearest,” Phil says softly, and kisses Clint's cheek, rubbing his back in soothing circles. They spend the rest of the flight calm and close, and then Clint starts to fret about fucking up as soon as the wheels touch down. Phil sighs as the plane comes to a complete stop. “You won't. You _can't_ , Clint. You're my sub and I love you. No matter how it goes today, I love you and you're perfect for me.”

There's pretty much nothing else to say after that, and Phil just holds Clint until they have to split up so Clint can get dressed and Phil can set up the irons. There's a strange calm to arranging dry ice and acetate to his satisfaction, and watching the frost form on the brands. Phil is wearing one of his best suits, but hangs up the jacket and the tie and carefully rolls up his sleeves.

“Holding up?” Nick asks softly. Clint's entire team will be walking him up the tiny aisle and putting him in place before sitting down to witness the rest. Nick is here to be Phil's moral support.

“I'm actually surprised at how all right I feel,” Phil murmurs. It's probably some kind of domspace he's never touched before. Cool and controlled and watchful. He feels like he could watch the hoarfrost form on the brands all day, serene and sure in the knowledge that his sub belongs to him utterly and has worthy friends taking care of him.

Nick smiles. “Good. Keep it up.”

“Yes,” Phil murmurs, studying the brands again. They're nearly cold enough now, and he shudders, fingertips running over his own thigh where the test dot is. He likes having this mark all to himself, a physical proof of how much he cares for Clint.

“Hurt bad?” Nick asks, one professional to another.

“Not much, for a brand.”

Nick nods slowly, looking thoughtful. Phil turns back to contemplating the brands, and looks up when Steve comes over. “Time?”

“About,” Steve agrees. He's wearing his dress uniform out of a sense of occasion, and Phil feels a little swooning sweep of surreality because his childhood hero is at his branding ceremony.

“Okay.” Phil takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Steve says, grinning crookedly and giving Phil's shoulder a gentle thump before going back to join the others.

Clint comes to Phil with an honor guard of his teammates, walking slowly, with his gaze down and the hood of his long cloak pulled over his face. Phil has no idea where in the hell Clint got the cloak, but his breath catches. He should have known Clint would wear something so traditional and so deeply submissive that it would make his breath catch. The others guide his steps and keep close around him so he won't be alone with the near-blindness of the hood, and Phil loves them all for this. The team peels off as they reach Phil until only Steve remains. He helps Clint to kneel, and bows to Phil before taking his seat. Phil nods to him, and then gently draws Clint's hood back, exposing those wide blue eyes. They're ringed with black and shine clear and bright, and Clint's glossed lips are curved into a small, shy smile.

There are formal words and vows people can use for this, but Clint doesn't want any. Instead Phil just pets him for a long, slow moment, and gazes into his eyes. “Ready?”

“Yes, master,” Clint says, and shifts his weight to the side, extending his right leg. He's naked under the cloak, and for a moment Phil is afraid his brain will short-circuit from thinking about that. Instead he just murmurs soft praise to Clint, petting him and making sure he's comfortable before covering the spot they've agreed on in alcohol. Once the skin is good and soaked, Phil sets the alcohol down and pulls the P iron from the bucket. Clint's eyes are huge but very calm, and he barely flinches when the iron touches his skin, gaze locked on Phil's face as if it's the only thing in the world. Phil presses hard and rocks the iron gently to get a good impression. 

Steve softly says, “Time,” when fifteen seconds have gone by, and Phil pulls away. There's a perfect impression, an indent that looks like hard white plastic against Clint's living skin. Clint is breathing deeply and evenly, eyes a little glassy. Phil kneels and kisses him, whispering into his ear about how good Clint is being. 

Phil is prepared to go without his own brand, but Clint collects himself and takes the eye brand from the bucket as Phil unbuttons his shirt and douses the left side of his chest in alcohol.

“Ready, master?”

“Yes,” Phil says, and watches Clint's face as the brand goes on. It hurts the way only cold can hurt, but only for a moment. Then there's just numbness and chill and Clint watching him, pressing and rocking in just the right way, because he's a good boy and always does his best for his master.


	4. Chapter 4

Branding ceremonies aren't big parties, as a general rule. Phil and Clint are flying on endorphins and utterly consumed with each other, but they have the decency to have previously ensured that drinks and cake are available for other people. Phil just sits with Clint in his lap, feeling the sun and feeding his boy sips of juice. It's an even more beautiful day than their wedding, and Phil rests in this strange, clear place. Phil has felt protective, predatory, and electric before, but this is lucid and almost cold. He's so calm he's almost dead, but he has never felt more alive. He studies each blade of grass and fallen leaf as if it's the first time, and feels every beat of Clint's heart and every breath in his lungs.

“I feel like I'm coming up on shrooms. But different,” Clint murmurs, and Phil smiles.

“Never tried them, myself.” Clint just coos and snuggles against him, utterly relaxed and happy. Phil's brand is starting to hurt like hell, but in this state the pain is just deep and warm and bright. It seems to reach into the heart of him, connecting everything he feels for Clint to the surface. Some kind of access point. He registers this vulnerability with some dismay, but it doesn't alarm him too much. For a very long time Clint has been like Phil's very heart walking free in the world anyway. “Feeling all right?” Phil murmurs after another slow and golden eternity.

“Yeah,” Clint purrs. “I'm too high for the pain to bug me.”

“Mm.” Phil presses a kiss to Clint's temple. “I should doctor you before you come down.”

“Not now, master, please,” Clint says, clinging a little.

“No, sweetheart,” Phil answers, rubbing his back. “Not right now.” They spend another half an hour at least under the tree before Phil helps Clint stand up and ushers him over to the little area where his folded clothes are stashed and the first aid supplies are arranged. There are also two folding chairs and a bench that puts Clint's new brand at the right height to be easily tended. Clint has expressed some interest in irritating the brand to force scarification, but Phil has long since put his foot down on that idea. If it doesn't show up enough for Clint they can rebrand, or tattoo an outline. Clint can't help rolling his eyes a little bit in response to Phil's fussing with the salve and the gauze, but smiles as Phil presses a kiss to the clean white dressing.

“Thank you, sir,” Clint says softly, and then gasps when Phil trails a line of kises up his inner thigh. “Master...” It comes out high and breathy as he clutches Phil's shoulders, and Phil sighs.

“So fucking perfect.” He bites gently, and Clint flinches and gasps, half-hard cock inches away from brushing Phil's cheek. “So fucking beautiful.”

“So fuck me, sir,” Clint says, some sass coming back into his voice.

Phil grins. “And to think that you're the one who doesn't like public scenes. Later, I promise.” He kisses the inside of Clint's knee and helps him down from the high bench, straightening his cloak and kissing him deeply before attending to his own brand. He can't help a hiss of pain, and Clint smiles, looking embarrassed and contrite and loving.

“Thanks for going through with this, boss.” He kisses the dressing lightly, and Phil grins, scruffling Clint's short hair.

“I like your mark on me, though.” He isn't prepared for the way that affects Clint, making him whimper and push close, biting Phil's neck hard and sudden. Phil lets out a little cry of surprise and pain that turns into a soft moan as Clint hangs on, only pulling away when there's a deep bruise forming. He blushes badly. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“Don't be,” Phil says, kissing him again. “I'm yours as much as you're mine, dearest boy.”

Clint is quiet and clingy as they make their rounds of thanks and farewell. They're still all on the same plane going back, but everyone expects them to hide in the back and ignore them, which is what happens. Phil and Clint are in their own little coccoon, warm and close and intimate. They go to their own floor of the tower while the others gather in the communal kitchen, presumably to continue the party, since guests at brandings almost always feel more festive than the participants.

“Are you all right?” Phil asks when they're locked in Clint's bedroom, the blankets a comfortable nest around them.

“Yes, master,” Clint says but he looks slightly troubled.

“Are you sure?” Phil murmurs, nibbling along Clint's jawline.

“I just... I want to top you, master.” He sounds confused as he says it, and much too ashamed. Phil kisses him before he says anything, wanting Clint to know that it really is okay.`

“That's all right with me,” is what Phil says when he can speak again.

“...Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

And that's how Phil ends up tied to the bed with his sub worshiping every inch of his body. Phil has switched before and certainly will again. He doesn't have real subspace because he's not a sub, but there's something to this, something relaxing and deeply touching in letting his sub control and care for him. He moans when Clint straddles him, panting and rutting along his slick hole as he purrs about how badly he wants Phil inside him, how tight and hot he is for his master. Phil groans and writhes in the restraints, breathing in harsh, loud gasps as Clint finally sinks down onto him. He rides Phil fast and hard and it's got to be hurting his new brand, but he doesn't seem to care, moans turning into long, wailing cries as he uses Phil's cock. It's one of the most beautiful things Phil has ever seen, and his eyes fill with tears as he watches Clint ride him, so soft and clinging, yielding for Phil on every stroke, nails digging into Phil's shoulders. It pulls on the brand a little, but Phil welcomes the pain, watching Clint's dark eyes as he fucks himself so hard and so deep.

“Gonna come for you, master,” Clint growls, and Phil moans, grinding up into him and gasping for him to do it, his voice husky and lost as he repeats himself until Clint lets out a loud, deep cry, shaking all over and squeezing Phil so tightly that he has no choice but to follow, groaning out all the breath in his lungs and finally sagging back in the restraints. Clint whimpers and pitches forward onto him, whimpering softly as he catches his breath.

Just when the restraints are really starting to irritate Phil, Clint collects himself enough to undo them. “All right, boss?”

“Yeah,” Phil rasps, licking dry lips. He grabs the bottle of water from the bedside table and takes a long swig before offering it to Clint, who does the same, smiling as he snuggles close before wrinkling his nose and sitting up to grab the wet wipes as Phil laughs.


End file.
